As i watch the rain coming down outside, i find myself feeling really disgusted. i watched a Dr. Phil show, yesterday, the story was basically about a woman (who was married to a guy in the military, and she\’d cheated on him while he was deployed) and her four daughters–who were in their late teens and twenties. Apparently, at least one of the daughters was sexually abused by at least one of the mother\’s suitors. No matter how things played out or who got hurt, in the long run, the mother kept making excuses and even using \”i don\’t remember\” quite a bit. *sigh i dunno why this one thought kept hitting me, beginning when that show started, and continuing all day, evening, and even this morning: When my brother and i spent the night over at our \”friends\’\” house, for his friend\’s \’farewell to go to basic training,\’ and his friend did what he did to me, even as i\’ve told my brother what happened (of course, from my perspective), he\’s never even shown any compassion, understanding, grief, etc. over what happened nor how i\’ve had to deal with my \”life\” since. The only reason i ever went into his room was due to the fact that he\’d told me he \”wanted to talk to me about something important that he couldn\’t tell my brother.\” i sat on the floor, by the door–just because i was feeling unsure and uneasy about being in his room to begin with, especially since everyone else was asleep. i sat there, clenching a pillow on my lap–fully clothed. He still didn\’t speak…he just turned his music up. So, i asked him, over and over, what it was that was so important that a) he had to wait for everyone to be asleep before he could tell me, and b) that it had to be\”like this,\” in this sort of setting….He never answered. He reached down to grab my hand, and as i squeezed the pillow tighter, he dragged me over to his bed. He didn\’t rip my clothing, but he wasn\’t too gentle…and no matter how i reacted, he was in his own…\’zone\’…..until he finished. My face was full of tears and i felt so betrayed, but it was my fault. If i\’d never gone in there…. If i\’d demanded a different setting…. If i\’d not even gone over there…but, his sister was my best friend, as well… OK, even with the what ifs and shoulda-coulda-wouldas, considering HIS perspective, if he has one at this point, since there\’s never been any open acknowledgment of any wrongdoing on his part, does my perspective even matter? Did it really happen? i know how two sides differ in most \’stories,\’ but i just keep thinking that since there seems to be a sense of disbelief—of course by people who weren\’t in the room with me, at the time—did it ever really happen? i never would\’ve been attracted to him. i never would\’ve gone out with him. He was my brother\’s friend, which was supposed to make him a friend of the family–or so, that\’s how my family operated at the time. As soon as that happened, from then on out, when he\’d visit, i was no where near them… i just couldn\’t stomach being around him.
i know this must seem really foolish to some of you. i have just been really unable to break free from this thought pattern. It\’s like it\’s stuck on replay…this happened two days before i turned sixteen, and i\’m forty-four years old! Why can\’t i get it out of my head?????